by Robin Martin
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Published by Bennett Lane Press 2016
Copyright © 2016 Robin Martin
All rights reserved.
www.robinmartinthomas.com
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission from the publisher.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the National Library of Australia.
Book cover design and formatting services by bookcovercafe.com
ISBN:
978-0-9946465-0-7 (pbk)
978-0-9946465-1-4 (e-bk)
For Rosie
My little writing buddy, who stayed with me on long summer days and cold winter mornings, cheering me on with a wag of her tail and always being ready to share an ANZAC biscuit or two.
Chapter One
A translucent bubble drifted down from the sky, gently breaking on my forehead.
This is your lucky day. A high-pitched voice sounded in my ears.
I stopped walking and looked around the broad expanse of beach, expecting to see someone near me. But other than a couple who were walking their dog along the shoreline, there was no one. I must have imagined it.
As I started walking again, my head began to feel heavy and uncomfortable, like I had a virus or something. Then I heard the voice again.
You are walking very slowly. Perhaps you should pick up the pace. Aerobic exercise is very good for you.
Was I going crazy? Obviously the lack of friends and a social life on this holiday had affected me more than I realised.
‘What’s going on?’ My words slipped out into the cold sea air. There was no one to hear them. I nearly freaked when an answer came back.
I should have thought that was obvious. I keep forgetting how limited humans are in their intelligence.
For the third time, I checked the beach to see if there was someone nearby. It was as empty as you would expect on one of the coldest July days ever. I was obviously sick, feverish maybe, definitely delusional.
I blamed my crazy parents, who had decided to come to the beach for the winter holidays because my mum was feeling stressed (she was a primary school teacher, enough said) and she wanted sea air, long beach walks and ‘family time’. Temperatures were irrelevant, apparently. I loved my mum, but seriously?
I was nearly sixteen, and not happy about the several good parties I was going to miss. And the last thing I needed was to get ill on this holiday, especially since I wanted to be at the top of my game when I eventually got back to my friends and civilisation. I had plans.
No, you are not sick, far from it. You are now host to an alien. It does feel good to inhabit a body again. Where are we going, by the way?
‘Who said that?’ I was starting to lose it. This was way off the radar of normal.
An alien, a superior being that has become attached to you. I did say you were fortunate.
It took me several moments to process this, and even then I wasn’t sure whether the voice was real or a figment of my imagination. ‘Excuse me,’ I said, feeling more than a little crazy, ‘we are not going anywhere. Get out, scram, and go back to your universe or whatever.’
The couple with the dog passed by and gave me a strange look. Oops, forgot I was talking out loud.
This was a bad dream, a very bad dream. I tried pinching myself to wake up.
I tried thinking what I wanted to say. Go away.
I cannot. The voice was unpleasantly smug. I am stuck here inside you. Never mind, you will get used to me. Inhabiting an emotional adolescent female is not my idea of a perfect match either, you know. I would much prefer a surgeon, a biochemist, or even a politician. Politicians are always good for a laugh, with so much lying, backstabbing and Machiavellian manoeuvring. But I was released from the mothercloud over Queensland, and then fate and the wind currents brought me to you.
‘I don’t believe this is happening,’ I muttered aloud.
The voice continued as if it hadn’t heard me. You now have the benefit of 4,367 years of consciousness on this earth. My alien life, however, is barred from you. Even the most intelligent of your species would have difficulty in comprehending the complexity and richness of my superior race.
You’re just a soap bubble, or maybe a piece of that awful pizza we had last night.
I thought that pizza was off. It must’ve been the mushrooms. I was seriously sick. I probably had a fever or something.
I started to jog up the beach. Maybe I could lose this annoying little voice if I went fast enough. Perhaps the wind would blow it away or the fresh air would make me feel better.
No, you are not sick, just a bit slow in understanding the situation. I will try again. There was a loud sigh and the voice continued. I am an alien and you are my host. You may as well accept it. This run is invigorating, by the way. I am so glad you took my advice about exercise.
Damn, it was still there. I slowed down, puffed. I’d reached the beach exit that led to our unit. I really hoped that whatever weird delusion I was having would end soon, but in the meantime I decided to play along with this voice in my head.
Okay, listen, I’m going home. No funny stuff. My parents are there and I don’t want them to know anything about you. They’ll think I’m crazy.
As a matter of fact, I thought I was crazy, too.
Not crazy, dear child, just enhanced. You now have the benefit of 4,367 years—
Yeah, yeah, heard it the first time. Just be quiet.
For a while everything seemed normal again. I didn’t hear the voice and I assumed that whatever weird thing had happened to me on the beach was over. But the trouble with assumptions is they are just that—assumptions. Considering my luck these holidays, I should have known better.
At dinner I looked down at the plate of mushy broccoli and overcooked chicken. Mum had decided to cook to give us a change from all the takeaway meals we’d been having. My mother is lovely and means well, but, sadly, she hasn’t realised she just can’t cook. She does try, unfortunately.
After what happened on the beach I had less appetite than usual, so I tried my usual strategy. ‘Mum, I’ve got a stomach ache, I can’t really eat at the moment.’
Her face softened in concern. ‘Again, dear?’ she said. ‘We really must have that checked. You seem to get stomach aches a lot lately.’
Dad looked at me suspiciously. ‘You were fine this afternoon. Trouble with you is you don’t have enough food going through your system. You need to eat more.’
I suppressed a groan. I’d heard all this before.
‘I eat plenty, Dad. I just don’t feel up to it at the moment. I think I’m comin
g down with something.’ And after the afternoon’s events, that wasn’t exactly a lie.
Eat. The inner voice spoke firmly. We need our strength.
I gave a start and nearly dropped my fork.
‘What’s wrong?’ Dad said.
‘Nothing,’ I said, giving him my wide-eyed innocent look.
The quicker I got out of there the better. I was just about to excuse myself from the table when my hand picked up the fork again and stabbed at a piece of broccoli. Without my wanting or meaning it to, the fork travelled towards my mouth. I felt like a puppet with strings. But what, exactly, was pulling them?
Even as I was still chewing, my hand went down and got a forkful of chicken.
Mum and Dad smiled at me, glad to see I was making an effort.
What’s going on? I mentally telegraphed to whatever was doing this to me.
As a growing adolescent, nutrition is vitally important for your health. The voice was as annoying as ever.
I quickly looked at Mum and Dad to see if they’d heard the voice, but they seemed to be acting normally, showing no signs of noticing that their only child was going crazy.
What about free will here? I sent my thoughts to what, for lack of a better word, I was starting to think of as my alien. It was easier to call it that than what it really was—my delusional, nightmare madness brought about, I was sure, from a lack of socialising with my peer group and too many unhealthy sea breezes.
Let us just call this a benevolent dictatorship. I am acting in both our interests.
This was too much. I knew that coming to the beach on this holiday was a huge mistake. I finished my dinner quickly and escaped to my room.
It was the same thing all the rest of that evening. I wanted to stay up and watch a DVD. It wanted to go to bed early. I wanted to sneak a glass of wine and read my book in bed. It gave me a lecture on underage drinking. I forgot to brush my teeth, and I heard all about the importance of dental hygiene. I gave up, exhausted from my internal nanny, and went to bed.
Maybe, I thought hopefully, it’ll be gone by tomorrow. The effect of bad mushrooms or whatever would surely have disappeared by then.
No such luck.
We are not going to sleep all day, are we?
I groaned and opened an eye. My alien was still there. It was dark, but my illuminated alarm clock said it was six am.
I am not getting up. It’s the middle of winter, freezing cold, and besides, I’m on holiday.
Zip-a-dee-doo-dah, zip-a-dee-ay, my, oh my, what a wonderful day …
I closed my eye, put a pillow over my head and tried to shut out the cheery little voice singing inside me. Stop! Stop!
Let us go for a walk.
No. I thumped the pillow over my head.
Come on, it will be good for us. Think of the calories you will burn. You do not want to get fat, do you?
Shut up!
Silence finally. I breathed deeply and tried to settle down to sleep again. Bliss, I thought, peace at last. Just as I started drifting off, the alien spoke again in a huffy voice.
There is no need to be rude, you know.
Sigh. I removed the pillow, sat up in bed and focused. It was time for a serious talk. Look, alien, what do you want?
Ah, that is better, cooperation. Well, let us start with a nice run along the beach for an hour or so, and then we can come back and have some muesli with low-fat milk. If you have some green tea that would be ni—
That’s not what I mean, I interrupted. Why have you inhabited me? What’s your long-term goal here? And when are you leaving?
Hmm, did we not cover that yesterday?
No. You evaded my questions. I want answers, now, or I’ll …
I had had enough and it was time for confrontation. I had a clever thought. Or I’ll have some Coco Pops, a packet of salt and vinegar chips, a Mars bar, and I’ll wash all that down with a litre of Coke. Then I’ll listen to some rap music on my iPhone, with the volume turned up so loudly I won’t be able to hear a thing you say to me.
You are not serious. A little joke, perhaps. Ha-ha. Oh, good one.
Actions spoke louder than words. I got out of bed and went to the kitchenette in our unit. Opening the cupboard, I took down the box of Cocoa Pops, shaking them purposefully.
Okay, okay, you win, the alien said. I suppose a little information sharing would not go amiss.
Good. I said and sat down on the sofa. In my parents’ room I heard Dad snoring peacefully. Lucky him, I thought.
Well, go on, then, I said to the alien.
I had no choice about whom I inhabited. It was just luck, really. You were the first person I landed on. I suppose we should refine that process, but the premise behind random selection is that it enables us to get a true cross-section of Earth’s population.
What if you hadn’t landed on anyone? There’s a lot of sand out there on the beach.
In that case I would have dissolved and evaporated back to the mothercloud. It happens all the time. That is why so many of us are released. Once I landed in the middle of the Kalahari Desert, and that was the fastest evaporation I had ever had, let me tell you.
So why do you want to inhabit humans?
It is not that we really want to merge with you. Good heavens, how would you feel if you had to be inside a dog, or, better analogy, a slug? No, it is just our purpose. We have to find out as much as we can about you and the best way to do that is to see firsthand how you live, how you think. We have been gathering information about you for eons. Well, 6,172 years, to be precise, give or take a few moons. Of course, that was when the first aliens arrived here. I came on the scene a couple of millennia later.
I didn’t like the sound of this. But why do you want to find out about us?
We are expanding our knowledge of the universe. The more we learn about other worlds, the easier it will be to avoid the many mistakes and disasters those worlds make. Your Earth abounds in them, by the way.
So that’s it? Nothing else? Just knowledge, huh? I wasn’t convinced.
The alien sighed. Is that not enough? No, I sense that it is not. All right, how about this. We are gathering knowledge for when we take over your world. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer. I believe that is one of the sayings here.
I heard a wicked chuckle inside my head.
Yup, I was right, I didn’t like this at all. Smacked of all those nasty sci-fi movies where aliens, bugs, machines, et cetera, are poised to swoop down on Earth and eliminate us all. But one thing puzzled me.
You must have a lot of info about us by now. How come it’s taken you soap bubbles so long?
I knew telling you anything was a mistake. If only I could have landed on a physicist or a nuclear scientist. They might have some idea of the scope and magnitude of this information.
This alien had a serious ego problem. If that’s the case, why don’t you just evaporate and go back to the mothershi—
Cloud, it interrupted. Mothercloud.
Whatever. Well, why don’t you?
I thought I explained that yesterday. I cannot. I am bonded to you now.
Eeuw. For how long?
Let me see. You are fifteen, nearly sixteen, and the average lifespan of a Western Caucasian female is around eighty years, so that means it will be about sixty-five years. Oh well, it could be worse, I suppose. I will be able to guide you through these troublesome years with my superior knowledge. You might consider yourself quite fortunate, really. You have definitely got the better end of the deal.
No way! I’m not going to have you with me for the rest of my life. That’s not happening, mister.
You have no choice.
There must be some way I can get rid of you.
Yes, there is.
Relief, big time. How?
When you die I will return to the mothercloud until it is time for me to be released to another human. You are my eighty-third human.
‘Oh, God, kill me now,’ I said aloud.
Not yet, dear, that is just your hormonal, adolescent propensity to overdramatise everything and indulge in meaningless emotional histrionics.
What?
You will get over it.
I groaned.
‘Is that you, Zoe?’ Mum called from my parents’ bedroom. ‘Why are you up so early?’
I needed some time to think, to plan, to plot. ‘Just going for a run on the beach, Mum. Be back in a little while.’
‘Okay, dear.’
I knew you would see it my way.
Over the next few days I tried everything I could think of to get rid of the alien inside me. I ate junk food and blasted music on my iPod that was too loud even for me. By the end of the holiday I had an aching head and had gained a kilo. But my invader was still there. I was beginning to realise that if this was a dream, it was a waking nightmare and there was no escape.
Even my parents began to notice there was something wrong with me.
‘Are you all right, honey?’ my mum asked on the last day. ‘You don’t look too well.’
And who would, I thought, with an alien inside them. But I answered, ‘I’m okay.’ I wondered what she would say if I told her the truth.
‘This holiday doesn’t seem to have done you much good,’ she said. ‘I thought it would be lovely and peaceful at the beach this time of year, without the crowds and everything. And the sea air, so fresh and clean. But you look pale and peaky. Perhaps you’ve picked up a bug or something.’
I nearly choked on my orange juice at that one.
‘She’s fine,’ my dad said as he picked up his coffee cup. ‘She’ll perk up soon enough when we get home and she’s with her friends.’ He looked at me and winked.
Ordinarily I would have agreed with him. But I was sure that going home wouldn’t solve the problem I had.
And I was right.
Chapter Two
On the first day of term my alien was sooo excited.
Ah, a place of learning. People to meet, books to read, knowledge to be gained. Is that not a wonderful thing?
If I had to be invaded by an alien, why couldn’t it have been one that was a bit cooler? I set the record straight.
